


Painting with Words

by iwillstillopenthewindow



Series: Painting with Words [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hinata is a writer, Kagehina Month, Kageyama is an artist, M/M, kagehinakage month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillstillopenthewindow/pseuds/iwillstillopenthewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata just can't seem to write anything these days, until he gets an invitation to an art exhibit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting with Words

**Author's Note:**

> For Kagehina month, week 2.  
> Prompt: Kageyama is an artist and Hinata is a writer
> 
> Edit:  
> We got [fanart](http://talk-to-the-fish.tumblr.com/post/98453330406/rumors-has-it-that-this-beautiful-thing-might-get) ohmygod.
> 
> Edit:  
> Kageyama's POV, "[Painted Words](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2642414)" is up!

It only takes two cups of coffee and several crumpled papers for Hinata Shouyou to admit that yes, he _may_ have a teeny tiny bit of writer’s block.

 

He sighs tiredly before leaning back on his chair. He’s thankful that he managed to snag one of the armchairs in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, appreciating the privacy and comfort that it offers. Eyes closing, he tries to lean back a little more, as his hands grip the soft fabric of the armrests. Hinata spends a couple of seconds like that before he breathes in the sweet, yet bitter aroma of coffee, mixed with the smell of various confectionaries. He lets the gentle music from the speakers soothe him, and he smiles even before he knows it.

Then Hinata sees colors, bright and dazzling, that make his eyes snap open. He lunges for his notebook on the little table before him, quickly uncaps his pen, and directs it to the fresh page. Scratches fill the air, and the paper is full of his messy handwriting in no time.

The colors leave as soon as they come though, and Hinata’s smile turns into a frown as he sets down his pen and rereads what he’s written. He rips out the page, crumples it, and shoves it into his backpack before letting out a loud annoyed growl, his hands pulling at his hair due to frustration.

Hinata’s actions earn him a few amused looks and chuckles from those who are sitting nearby, making his cheeks heat up a bit. He mutters a quick apology as he puts his notebook and pen back in his bag. He has just stood up when another person claims the armchair in front of his.

“Still at it, Hinata?”

He looks down and exclaims an excited “Sugawara-san!” before he sees the crumbled paper balls that his upperclassman has in his hands. Hinata groans and plops back down into his seat. He unzips his backpack and offers it to Sugawara, who dumps the trash in it, a teasing expression on his face.

“A-Are you done helping Daichi-san with their exhibit?” Hinata asks as he hugs his almost full bag to his chest.

Sugawara hums pleasantly, his way of saying ‘yes’, as he brings his cup of coffee to his lips. Hinata waits until he sets the cup down again before he says “Great work!” which brings a smile to Sugawara’s face.

“Thank you, Hinata.” Sugawara eyes the stray pen marks on Hinata’s hands. “How about you? Is your project coming along fine?”

He laughs when all he gets as a reply is Hinata banging his head on the table. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then? 

“Ugh.” Hinata looks up at him, his forehead already red. “I just… can’t write at all!” He whines.

“Ah, writer’s block,” Sugawara says as he nods understandingly.

Hinata sits up straight. “It’s just that…” he trails off and lets his arms flail around as he thinks.

“There’s this spark, but it doesn’t seem right," he sees Sugawara staring at him confusedly, so he continues, “the words, the words seem to be there, but they don’t fit! They don’t go all GWAH and PAH as usual!”

Hinata pouts as he stares at the floor. He's sure that he's just made a fool of himself, but he's also sure that Sugawara may be one of the few people who can somehow understand what he means.

Sugawara is already in his last year of college, majoring in Literature like Hinata, who is only in his first year. They met each other as early as the first week of school, when Hinata accidentally stumbled upon him and Daichi making out at the back of one of the old school buildings. Hinata went there for some peace and quiet (He remembers how Daichi laughs whenever they reminisce about that time, because really, Hinata and 'peace and quiet' don't really work well together.), but instead got two wonderful upperclassmen that treat him almost like their son.

It's already been two weeks since one of Hinata's professors, Takeda, informed the class about their project for the semester, which will make up fifty percent of their final grade. Each of them would have to submit a portfolio, a collection of their own writings. Hinata was excited at first, thinking about all the things he could write about, but when he finally sat down to start working, his excitement bubbled away to irritation as ripped and crumpled pieces of paper slowly filled up his trashcan.

Sugawara and Daichi, who pick him up from his dorm every Wednesday, find him the following morning on his desk, drooling in his sleep, his papers scattered everywhere. Hinata told them about the predicament he's in, and Sugawara, who also had Takeda as his professor, offered him a sympathetic smile. He gave him a soft pat on the back while they walked out into the school grounds, and said that all he probably needed was—

"Inspiration. Haven't you found one yet?"

Hinata looks up again at the sound of Sugawara's voice and shakes his head 'no'.

"Hmmm..." Sugawara puts a finger to his lips and looks up as if in thought. "If you're interested, Daichi gave me some free tickets to the exhibit."

He fishes around in his messenger bag for his own notebook and pulls out a card-looking thing placed in between the pages. He places it in Hinata’s waiting hands. “It’s a week-long pass, so it looks better than normal tickets.”

“The exhibit will feature the artworks of four students from the Art department. And this,” Sugawara taps the edge of the card, “can get you in and out during the whole duration of the event, for free.”

Hinata’s eyes have started sparkling when he heard ‘tickets’.  “Oooh! That sounds so cool! And I get to see Daichi-san’s work! Thank you, Sugawara-san! I’ll definitely go—”

He stops, seeming to remember something. Hinata’s face is glum as he puts the card down on the table.

“…Sorry, Sugawara-san,” He says as he pushes the card back towards Sugawara, “I don’t think I can go. I still haven’t gotten anywhere with my project, you see. I’ll apologize to Daichi-san as well, for missing—”

But Sugawara is already shaking his head. “This _is_ for your project.”

He waves the card in front of Hinata’s questioning eyes, says “Maybe this will get your creative juices flowing, eh?” and beams.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hinata realizes that he forgot to set up his alarm clock last night when he wakes up and sees red digits glaring down from his bedside table. ‘9:10am’, it says.

At first, Hinata even tries to snuggle back into his sheets, his half-awake mind telling him that ‘Hey, it’s Sunday. You don’t have any classes. Sleep, you awesome person.’ But then another voice is yelling at him to ‘Wake up and run because you’re late!’ His eyes slowly open, still heavy with sleep. Then he sees the ticket next to his alarm clock and all traces of sleepiness goes flying out the window.

“The exhibit starts at 9am. Try not to be late, okay?” Hinata moves even faster when he remembers the reminder Sugawara gave him before he left the café. He had answered with a thumbs up and a smile, assured him that yeah, he wasn’t going to be late. And yet here he is, most definitely late.

A quick look in his fridge tells him that he won’t be having any breakfast today, so after splashing some water on his face and changing into fresh clothes, he bikes his way to his university’s gallery.

As he pedals, Hinata thinks that he’s lucky that his dorm is nearby. It only takes him ten minutes to reach the venue. But apparently he isn’t fast enough because he spots Sugawara standing next to the entrance, making him gulp nervously. He’s already experienced Sugawara’s wrath when he was late to his own birthday party and he really doesn’t want to go through that again. With that in mind, Hinata jumps off his bicycle, parks it next to the others, and jogs over to Sugawara, an apologetic smile already in place.

“Aaah, sorry I’m late, Sugawara-san!” Hinata says as he rubs his nape. “It’s a funny story, actually. You see, my alarm clock—”

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your ticket," Sugawara deadpans.

Hinata nods immediately at that, pulling his ticket out of his pocket. “Yup! It’s right here!”

Sugawara sighs in relief. “Good. Let’s go in.”

Hinata gives his own sigh of relief. It seems like he’s safe, for now. He trails after Sugawara after letting the guard check his ticket.

Once they’re inside, Hinata lets out a sound of amazement, making Sugawara laugh. ‘Leave it to Hinata to find even the simplest things amazing,’ he thinks.

The gallery looks like a huge box right now, its walls and ceiling painted white while its floor is made of black marble. Daichi had decided to remove the panel boards in the middle of the room, saying that they’ll only be using the walls. “One wall per student,” he said. Benches took the place of the panel boards, where a handful of people now sat.

Hinata walks over to the nearest painting. There’s a rich blend of reds, blues, and other colors that he can’t identify anymore. He looks at it closer, and then there are brush strokes that formed the soft petals of roses. It’s beautiful enough to unconsciously bring a smile to Hinata’s face. His smile widens when he sees who it’s by.

 

‘Sawamura Daichi – Bloom’

 

Pride swells in his chest. Hinata looks around the room, trying to find Daichi so he can congratulate him. He sees him and Sugawara on the other side of the gallery. He has already raised his arm, about to call out when he sees a small group of guests approach them. Oh. Maybe his congratulations can wait. With one last look at Daichi’s painting, Hinata makes his way around the gallery.

There isn’t much to look at, to be honest. The walls are still empty since each artist only has one painting on display. Daichi has mentioned that every day, they’ll each be adding a piece until Friday. It goes without saying that the gallery will be jam-packed on Saturday, the last day of the exhibit, because most people prefer to visit when all the paintings are already out, even though the artists won't have enough time to entertain all of them.

Hinata recognizes the names of the other students. Tsukishima Kei, a first year, painted a storm. An actual storm, with his lines mad and firm, tiny raindrops that fall on the sidewalk with angry splatters, a zigzag of lightning that seems to cut the sky in half. His sky is a mixture of blacks, blues, whites, and yellows. Nishinoya Yuu, a second year, painted the exact opposite. His lines may be strong, but his colors aren’t, combining greens, yellows, and pinks. There are little kids rolling around in the grass, the brightness of their smiles rivaling the sun’s rays.

‘So this is why Sugawara-san said that this would help.’ Hinata thinks as he walks away from Nishinoya’s piece. There’s no denying that all of the artists that are participating in the exhibit are extremely talented. Their feelings are properly conveyed through their works, and Hinata has the feeling that he can do the same through words when he gets home.

There is only one painting that he hasn’t seen yet. As he makes his way towards it, Hinata notes that compared to the others’ areas, there aren’t a lot of people around. When he gets close enough, he sees the reason why- the artist used only blacks and whites. If it were to be displayed right next to the others’, it would surely look out of place.

‘I wonder why. Did the artist run out of time or something—’

Hinata’s thoughts halt.

Blacks and whites of different shades and heaviness are meticulously painted onto the canvas. There are straights where there are lines, curves where they are needed. His eyes follow the way they join together to form the contours of an overturned crown. From where it lies, a seemingly endless floor spreads out. Hinata can’t tell where the brush strokes end or begin, and he also can’t remember when he last breathed.

 

His fingers itch for a pen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

For once in his life, Hinata is grateful that he has morning classes.

 

As much as he likes art, as much as he likes to support Daichi, as much as his trip there yesterday helped him, he can’t help but feel a bit anxious about going back. After staring at the last painting for at least ten minutes, Hinata bolted towards Sugawara, hurriedly asking him if he had a pen and some paper. Sugawara handed him a pen, and was about to pull out his notebook from his bag when Hinata stopped him. No, he can’t write on Sugawara’s private notebook. No, that would be wrong. Sugawara seemed to understand and pulled out a pad of sticky notes instead.

“Will these do?” he asked.

Hinata beamed at him and gave his thanks before running back to the painting. He takes one long look at it again before he closed his eyes. He heard the little conversations around him, the background noise. He saw the blacks and the whites, saw how the crown fell, and even heard the sound it made. Then all is silent again until the crown made contact with the floor. As it spread out, the blacks and whites were washed over by reds, browns, gold, and royal blues.  Hinata saw the colors, and he was already starting to write before his eyes even opened.

 

_And even the mighty fall sometimes,_

_so they can see_

_what has always been theirs,_

_and what more they can be._

_And even the mighty fall sometimes,_

_so the world can see_

_if they are going to stay overthrown,_

_if they are going to go back up,_

_or if they are going to soar higher_

_than they have ever flown._

 

Hinata reread what he wrote, over and over again, made some corrections here and there, and smiled. Just as he was about to pocket the pad, he looked back at the painting, and then at what he wrote, and then back at the painting.

He slowly peeled off the paper he wrote on from the pad, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and stuck it right next to the painting on the wall.

“Thanks," he whispered before turning away to look for his friends.

 

And now, Hinata is unsure whether what he did was right or not. What if the artist found that rude of him? He’s sure that Sugawara and Daichi saw the Post-it, but neither commented on it. So, thank heavens for morning classes.

The next three hours pass by like a blur. The bell rings, waking Hinata up from his ‘nap’. He races down the halls, not wanting to get caught in the lunch hour. There’s the kind lunch lady waving at him, a sandwich that he asked for the other day in her hand. They talk while she rings him up, and he thanks her before he leaves when students started to pile in.

Hinata glances at his wristwatch. It’s already 1pm, Daichi asked him to come by at around 1:30, but he doesn’t hurry. The art gallery’s just around the corner anyway.

He’s already finished his sandwich by the time he gets there, but he’s not late. He shows the guard his ticket, lets him inspect his backpack, and slowly goes inside.

‘There are more people today,’ Hinata notices. There are four new artworks on display, and since he couldn’t see Daichi anywhere, he walks up to Nishinoya’s.

Today’s piece is of a little girl on a swing set. She’s high up in the air, her sundress looking like it’s floating with the wind.  Her hair is long and flowing, with different shades of brown. It’s bright and happy. It’s Nishinoya, all right. Daichi’s is of a field, a field of blooming flowers. There are roses, daisies, sunflowers, and others that Hinata can’t name. There are splashes of color everywhere, prominent in the dark night setting. Tsukishima’s is of a black cat sleeping on a couch. It looks at peace, its whiskers long and thin. The lighting seems to imply that it’s late afternoon. There are pillows everywhere, but they don’t seem to bother it. It continues to sleep.

They are all stunning, just as Hinata expects.

He lets his eyes sweep the room, sighing when he doesn’t see any sign of his friend. Hinata takes a deep breath and lets his feet lead him to the painting on the opposite wall. He stops in front of the painting from yesterday, and feels something close to panic when he doesn’t see the Post-it. He doesn’t get to freak out that much though, because right next to the painting is another one.

It’s all blacks and whites again, different shades, different strokes. Some look smooth, some look rough. There are lines, lots of them, long ones and short ones, some curving, some continuing in a straight path. They form feathers, they form wings, wings that belong to a crow in flight.

‘Wait a minute…’

“Hinata?” Daichi’s voice breaks him out of his trance. “Glad you could make it.”

“D-Daichi-san!”

“What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“N-Not at all!” Hinata replies as he points at the painting. “I was just, um, looking at this and wow! It’s really nice! Ah! Not that yours isn’t! It’s also great!”

Daichi chuckles and reaches out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “You’ve taken a liking to his works eh?”

‘His?’

Then Hinata whips his head back to the paintings so fast that Daichi has to step back. Oh. Hinata didn’t notice. There’s something else that makes the two pieces different from the rest. He turns back to Daichi.

“Daichi-san… Who painted those?” Hinata asks, gesturing to the canvases on the wall.

Daichi shakes his head. “Sorry, but he doesn’t like letting others know his name.”

“Eh?”

“He… doesn’t like the attention.”

Before Hinata has the chance to press him further on the subject, someone from the other side of the exhibit calls out his friend’s name. Daichi ruffles his hair one last time before he leaves.

Hinata looks around before taking out his pen and sticky notes from his backpack’s front pocket. He stares at the crow, breathes in, and closes his eyes.

 

_You are flying,_

_around and around._

_A gush of wind,_

_makes its howling sound._

_And your wings think_

_that you cannot hear,_

_every time they ask,_

_‘Where are we going from here?’_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hinata arrives at the art gallery at exactly nine am. He greets the guard a good morning and skips in, he’s the first one there. Sugawara and Daichi wouldn’t be around until later in the afternoon, and Hinata has to leave at ten for his classes, and he has a plan to carry out. He wastes no time and heads straight to Daichi’s part.

This time, there is only one flower- a rose, in a clear glass vase, sitting by a windowsill. Its individual petals are blood red, even the ones that have fallen. The view from the window says that it’s close to midnight, as dark blues and blacks take over the sky. There are little yellow dots scattered about, and they are enough to brighten up the heavens. Nishinoya’s is next. Only a pair of hands can be seen. They are holding on to each other tightly, looking like they do not want to let go anytime soon. Tsukishima’s is a room. A very cluttered one. The bed is unmade, books and clothes are everywhere. And, Hinata squints, are those dinosaur figures? The lines are heavy and thick, colors spilling out of them, Hinata has to look away.

It’s already 9:30am when he reaches the nameless paintings, and he smiles when he sees the newest addition.

A door to a balcony, open. There are more whites than blacks today, as soft as the curtains that look like they are getting blown outside. The view outside is blank, just white.

Hinata already has his sticky notes and pen in hand, and he lets the same wind in the painting carry him away.

 

_When the door closes,_

_do not turn away,_

_do not start screaming,_

_do not knock furiously on the wood._

_When the door closes,_

_learn to stay,_

_learn to press your ear to the cold surface,_

_learn to listen to their sobbing,_

_even if it kills you right where you stood._

He peels off the Post-it, sticks it on the wall, and turns to leave. He is almost out of the gallery when he runs back, quickly uncaps his pen, and scribbles a messy ‘ _What’s your name?_ ’ at the bottom. He runs out again, narrowly avoiding a collision with the second visitor of the day. He throws an apology over his shoulder, but he has no time to look back. It’s already ten am, and his professor, Ukai, doesn’t like it when his students are tardy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Wednesday, and all three of them have classes in the morning. Sugawara and Daichi pick him up from his dorm as usual, and both of them don’t say anything about the Post-it Hinata left yesterday. Did someone take it off even before they arrived?

They go on their different ways once they’ve entered the building. Hinata tries his very best not to squirm in his chair, but fails incredibly. Nothing seems to interest him today. Takeda looks at him worriedly halfway through the lecture, but he just smiles to say he’s okay. The bell rings, and he is the first one out of the room.

He left his bicycle outside of the building the other day, so it wouldn’t be a bother when the three of them walked together that morning. He hops on his bike and pedals as fast as he can to the art gallery.

The guard greets him a good afternoon, and he smiles back. Hinata runs to the end of the room, where the nameless paintings are displayed. He stops in front of them to catch his breath for a minute. Then he looks up at them, excited. His eyes search for any sign of a note or something, and something in him deflates when he finds none.

“He didn’t reply,” Hinata mutters, crestfallen.

He looks at the newest painting. There are blacks and whites, more blacks this time, curves that seem to smash against each other. Waves disappearing and appearing, an ocean.

His right hand moves immediately.

 

_‘The calm before the storm,’_

_they say._

_It frightens people,_

_the idea of something coming._

_But what terrifies me,_

_is what will happen after it goes away._

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Thursday morning and Hinata arrived at 8:50am. He’s too early, too excited. He spends the time talking with the guard. It’s exactly nine am when he cheerfully hands his ticket to his newfound friend.

He runs inside again, straight to _the_ wall.

 

_‘My name is Hinata Shouyou. What’s yours?’_

 

He has tried again, this time introducing himself first. So maybe, this time around, he’ll get a reply.

 

He doesn’t.

 

What he gets is another painting, full of blacks and whites. An empty bottle.

He reaches for his pen and pad, starts writing, but stops. He looks up in alarm and mentally counts the paintings on the wall in front of him. Five. The next one will be the last.

It’s amusing, Hinata thinks, how a simple illustration can capture how he feels that exact moment.

Five. The next one will be the last.

Hinata closes his eyes longer this time, savors the way the blacks give way to bursting colors, the way the bottle fills up, and then he breathes.

 

_Today is the day_

_when I will breathe in the scent of you_

_for one last time._

_But I cannot bring myself_

_to exhale._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hinata doesn’t expect anything today, but he still skips his morning classes. He’s a bit late though, and Sugawara and Daichi are already there. He sees the other artists too, Tsukishima and Nishinoya, both standing in front of their final pieces.

He makes his way to Daichi and Sugawara, gives each of them a hug, and steps back to admire Daichi’s work.  It’s a bouquet of flowers, a mix of different kinds. A blend of different colors, a mix of different emotions. But Hinata knows what they all add up to. He sees it in Daichi’s eyes whenever he looks at Sugawara. He wishes that there would be someone who will look at him the same way someday.

Nishinoya’s is a child playing in the snow. There’s plenty of white in the piles of snow, the dots that are just starting to fall, and the bits stuck in the boy’s hair. He seems to be making a snow angel, his eyes closed and a content smile on his lips. Tsukishima’s is a moon, big and luminous in the night sky. There are tiny stars scattered around it, each shining brightly.

Hinata doesn’t expect anything today, but he still walks a bit faster than he usually does. Hinata doesn’t expect anything today, and that’s what he gets.

His heart drops when he sees nothing but white space next to the painting of the empty bottle. He looks around, checking if it has been displayed elsewhere, but nothing is out of place. He runs back to Daichi, who seems to understand the moment he points to the wall.

“He’s… a little late with his submission,” Daichi explains.

“A little… late? Why?”

“He didn’t say.” Daichi looks at him worriedly. “I’m sorry, Hinata. But I’m sure that he’ll have one up tomorrow.”

“But,” Hinata’s voice shakes, “but today’s the last day.”

Sugawara gently reminds him that the exhibit officially ends tomorrow, so there’s still time for the artist to catch up. He gives him a pat on the back, and Hinata tries his best to reply with a smile.

Slowly, he makes his way back to the other side of the gallery. He takes out his pen and his pad, and closes his eyes. He breathes in. He opens his eyes, stares at the previous paintings, and closes them again. He breathes in. He doesn’t hear anything, and he doesn’t see much at all.

He peels off a blank sheet, sticks it where the last painting should’ve been, and leaves without another word.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It is already 3pm when Hinata arrives at the exhibit. As expected, the venue is packed with guests.  It takes him some time before he spots Sugawara and Daichi, who both look surprisingly happy.

“Did… something happen?” Hinata asks as he reaches them.

Daichi’s smile only widens and Sugawara shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

They sit on one of the benches, Hinata sincerely congratulating Daichi on a job well done, and Sugawara promising to treat them both to some pork buns after the event. Daichi gets called by one of his professors, who also gestures for Sugawara to come with. Hinata waves them off, saying that he’ll go congratulate the other artists.

Tsukishima gives him a surprised look when he approached him, and quietly mutters his thanks. Nishinoya is the opposite though, who shouts “Shouyou!” as soon as he sees him. Hinata forgets about the emptiness that he’s feeling for a few minutes, laughing at Nishinoya’s poor attempt of imitating a tour guide. A tall third year walks to them, and Hinata almost runs away, but Nishinoya assures him that Asahi, despite his appearance, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hinata’s gaze travels to their intertwined hands, and then to the painting a few days ago. When he looks back at them, Nishinoya smiles at him and winks.

He is on his way back to Sugawara and Daichi when Hinata sees that there are quite a number of people crowding around the wall he frequented the past few days. He is about to shake it off, when he notices that some of them are pointing at him. And there are those that keep on looking at him then to the row of paintings. What?

Intrigued, Hinata makes his way to the front, mumbling “Excuse me”s and “Pardon me”s. He feels his heart beat faster when he counts and there are six paintings on the wall. He runs to the end, where the last painting should be, and his heart stops.

The blank Post-it is gone, replaced by another canvas. There are lines and curves of different heaviness meticulously painted onto the canvas. There are straights where there are lines, curves where they are needed.

He can’t seem to breathe, because he _knows_ those orange curls and amber eyes and it’s like he’s staring into a mirror. He knows that if he turns around, he'll see the same wall of canvases in the painting's background on the other side of the gallery.

He can’t seem to breathe, because gone are the blacks and the whites, the whole painting is bursting with colors. His hair has its attention-grabbing orange, mixed in with soft strokes of reds, yellows, and blues. His eyes are as bright as the smile painted on his lips, and there’s a rich blend of colors, a mix of emotions, and he thinks back to Daichi and his bouquet of flowers and his chest hurts.

The him in the painting is facing left, and Hinata unconsciously does so as well.

His nose collides with another person’s chest, and the smell of paint attacks his senses. He jumps back and tries to glare up at the man, but his chest only hurts even more, and the bouquet of flowers bloom even more in his mind and heart.  

The man’s hair is black, his eyes navy blue. Hinata’s heart beat speeds up when he realizes that the look in his eyes is the same as his in the painting. He’s wearing the black overalls of their university’s art students, but the black is splattered with colors. There are yellows, reds, blues, and a lot of oranges- the same colors on the painting.

Hinata notices that the man’s hand is trembling, and in his grip are crumpled little Post-its. And everything makes sense, the words, the painting, the colors, the flowers, _everything_.

He hears the man clear his throat, and Hinata looks up just in time to see a light blush spread across his face as he extends a hand.

 

“Kageyama Tobio.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> YES, I WILL be writing another one in Kageyama's POV! :D
> 
> Yes, Kageyama's been watching Hinata ever since day one. Yes, Kageyama is the person that Hinata almost bumped into. Yes, this whole thing would've been shorter if Kageyama introduced himself properly from the start. Yes, I am sorry.
> 
> Did Hinata manage to submit his portfolio? Yes, and Takeda gushes over the pieces like the cute dork that he is. 
> 
> Special thanks to my mom, who was patient enough to listen to me ramble on and on about the plot, and even gave really helpful suggestions and ideas.
> 
> Also... the last thing that Hinata wrote, I actually submitted that for a contest to have lunch with Lang Leav. Fortunately, mine was one of the three that she chose!
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> If you're interested, [Kagehina Month](http://www.kagehinakagemonth.tumblr.com) is still ongoing! Also, it's okay to post late, so you can still post stuff for weeks 1 and 2~


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